Or, he should say, it’s 3:42AM when Grantaire loses his goddamn mind. For real, this time, he really must have gone crazy, because there’s no fucking way it’s really Enjolras standing there in front of him.

Background: Spring 2014. After a wildly eventful winter over which she admitted her feelings for her best friend Floreal, Irma Boissy moved to San Francisco to focus on her career. Grantaire is finding pseudo ‘sober living’ less promising than his friends had hoped. He flies across the country to meet up with Irma after she jokingly invites him over for a drink and they have a surprisingly tender drunken hook-up. Irma returns to NYC, convinced by Grantaire to move in as his roommate, and their friendship develops quickly. Things come to a jarring halt however after Irma discovers that Grantaire has relapsed. She leaves. Blahblahblah.
This fict takes place at Grantaire’s debauched and depressing birthday party.

This is the story of how alcohol stopped tasting bitter and became sweet instead.
A story of how coincidences, eye contacts and incidental touches can change how we see the world, or rather, how the world presents itself to us. A story of three bars, of brandy, of pink cocktails and of instants that last precisely ten heart beats, not more, not less. This is a story of friendship, in its most simple and purest form, but more importantly, a story bringing joy back into the craved necessities of life.

"I live with Enjolras, and all I can tell you is that I've never seen him show passion towards anyone besides the full-page photo of Karl Marx in his 19th century philosophy textbook."
Beside them, Combeferre lets out a loud groan and faceplants on the kitchen table, nearly upsetting his coffee mug. A flash of guilt passes over Courfeyrac's face. "I mean that...not in a weird way."
"Stop talking," Combeferre says. "Please."

Or, Combeferre is terrified of everyone and hopelessly in love with his best friend and Grantaire is homeless and suddenly finds himself living in a commune where everyone is overly invested in organic gardening and something called Kombucha. No one ever said your 20s were easy.